


True Colours

by sandean_cas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Castiel Does Not Care About Gender Norms (Supernatural), Castiel Does Not Get The References (Supernatural), Castiel Does Not Understand Boundaries (Supernatural), Castiel Possessing Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Castiel is Not Oblivious (Supernatural), Castiel is a Winchester (Supernatural), Characters Reading Fanfiction, Dean Winchester Has Issues, Dean Winchester Has PTSD, Dean Winchester Has a Heart, Dean Winchester Says Yes to Michael, Dean Winchester Says the Wrong Thing, Dean Winchester Takes Care of Castiel, Dean Winchester Wears Castiel's Trenchcoat, Episode: s10e05 Fan Fiction, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Humor, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Light Angst, M/M, Mind Meld, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s10e05 Fan Fiction, Protective Dean Winchester, Quote: I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition. (Supernatural), Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Sam Winchester is Scarred For Life, Sam Winchester is So Done, Sam is a Saint, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, mentioned only - Freeform, you cant have subtext without s-e-x
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2020-12-16 14:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21038069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandean_cas/pseuds/sandean_cas
Summary: “Look! Sam, Dean, a play!”And damn it all if Dean doesn’t almost swerve off the road and crash as he takes in the sign.‘Supernatural: The Musical. And of course, Marie’s face is plastered on the side. Don’t kids ever learn anything?“Dean hates that play.” Sam provides, as Dean continues to sulk in silence.He hates people knowing about his life. About things that he hadn’t even told his brother… things that he didn’t want to acknowledge as real.Cass frowns. “From what I can see it seems like it’s a fairly accurate portrayal of your lives.“Yeah, but it’s our lives Cass. It talks about all our rough patches and fights and every bad thing that ever happened. Why would we watch it?”“Because I want to see it. I’ve never seen a musical before.”“Yea, well, you can barely call this a musical.” He mutters, turning on his indicator anyway....Team Free Will 2.0 watch the supernatural play... only some things in the second act have changed.When Dean finds out Castiel thinks they could be a good couple how will he cope?Will he push him away?Or will unforeseen circumstances force them to face the music?





	1. The Nature of Destiel in Act II

“Look! Sam, Dean, a play!”

And damn it all if Dean doesn’t almost swerve off the road and crash as he takes in the sign.

‘Supernatural: The Musical. And of course, Marie’s face is plastered on the side. Don’t kids ever learn anything?

“Dean hates that play.” Sam provides, as Dean continues to sulk in silence.

He hates people knowing about his life. About things that he hadn’t even told his brother… things that he didn’t want to acknowledge as real.

Cass frowns. “From what I can see it seems like it’s a fairly accurate portrayal of your lives.

“Yeah, but it’s our lives Cass. It talks about all our rough patches and fights and every bad thing that ever happened. Why would we watch it?”

“Because I want to see it. I’ve never seen a musical before.”

“Yea, well, you can barely call this a musical.” He mutters, turning on his indicator anyway.

Looks as though they’ve got a fifteen minute wait before the 2:30 showing. Goodie.

…

“Dean. I seriously don’t get your problem with this play.”

Of course Sam doesn’t. He’s the poster boy for emotional health. “I seriously don’t get your lack of problems with this crap.”

“It isn’t crap Dean.” The angel drawls.

Great. Now he’s sandwiched between bim and bam for the entirety of this horror fest. Well, at least he had enough common sense to put up for a huge bucket of popcorn.

The credits roll around once more and the introductions start. The first act is standard, almost a replica of bits and pieces they had seen while chasing the muse. Sam, of course, is watching raptly, and Cass is tapping his fingers to the beat the nodding along. Dean of course just sits stoically, cradling his bag of popcorn.

The second act starts though and it isn’t what he expects. No robots and space. No woman Dean. Oh but boy did play Sam stand too close to him. Play Cass caresses him about ten times too much forcing him to remember Marie’s spiel about there being ‘no subtext without s-e-x.’ Oh and was there sex.

Destiel. The members of the audience murmured around him.

He wonders how sex even made it into a high school play. Granted. It isn’t raunchy by any means but makes Dean uncomfortable nonetheless. And it certainly doesn’t help that he’s sitting next to Cass… Cass who sits there staring contemplatively at the stage. He supposes that angels don’t have qualms about sex. He is surprised that his friend isn’t freaking out or looking at him indignantly.

Sam though, Sam winks at him and mouths, ‘DeanCas’

Dean flicks popcorn at his face.

To his utter surprise, the show now features Leviathan, Purgatory, a scarily good Crowley and even the whole Mark of Cain and the Darkness shebang. So much for his ‘bad fanfiction’ as Marie had put it. Though, Dean can’t help but feel happiness that the angel and his brother are deprived the chance of seeing him turn in to a woman.

By the time the whole horror show is finish, he turns his brother with a ‘how did you even sit through this shit?’ look. Sam, eloquent as ever with that Ivy league education, shrugs.

“C’mon Cass you gotta help me out here man.” He pleads.

“I don’t know Dean.” His friend says, a light smile of amusement plastered across his face, “I think it’s a huge compliment. To you and to Sam.”

“A compliment?” he demands, incredulous, of course an angel would look for the ‘good.’ “Hey, and don’t forget… you’re in this shit-fest too.”

“Yes Dean, it’s a form of admiration. These people have read about your struggles and have found them worthy enough to appreciate them through the arts. Human history will agree with me.” he says, matter-of-factly.

Dean huffs, watching from the corner of his eye as Sam talks to some mook about lighting. He still whispers though, not wanting shipper Sam to be unleashed. “So you don’t feel – I don’t know – grossed out by the idea of this Destiel crap.”

Cass shoots him a dry look, “That someone could even think that you would chose to be with someone like me… that _is_ a compliment Dean. But the way they portray it… makes it seem as though we have the potential to be um, as they say, a ‘power-couple.’”

And of course, because his life could go no other way, Sam leans over and practically hisses: “Deastiel!”

“Oh. My. God!”

Oh. My. God. It’s Marie.

Dean bounds to his feet immediately, only to find himself sandwiched between Sam and Cass with nowhere to go.

“The Smiths.” She says in her judge-y little teenage voice. Her eyes quickly move past them though, spotting their very own ‘angel in a dirty trench-coat.’ “Castiel.” She whispers in awe.

“Hello.” He greets pleasantly, “I enjoyed your production immensely.”

She shoots Dean another judging look, “I’m happy to hear that. It’s such high praise coming from someone who’s lived and breathed it.”

Onto more pressing issues, “You told me my ideas were ‘horrible fanfiction!’”

She winces then shrugs helplessly, “Well that was before the writer released the new books. And to be honest. You left out all the juicy details in your cut and dry version of the story.”

He snorts, mentally cursing Chuck with all his might for having broken his word. They have guns… they’ll find him soon enough.

“Anyway, more importantly, this Destiel thing isn’t real.” He gestures to Cass, “Hear it from the mouth of an angel.”

“Um Dean.” He begins, shifting under their stares, “I told you the portrayal depicted us as compatible. Sure some of the details were a bit exaggerated but they existed.”

All he wanted was a little support but… nooo.

“Damnit Cass!” ugh “The question is whether or not we’re actually a couple in real life. It’s a yes or no answer buddy.”

He glances away, “No. Not in real life.”

“You should be.” She says, walking away to mingle with the other guests. On his side, Sam is chatting it up with that other chick… Maeve. Probably about sounds and lights. Such a geek.

…

It’s only in the car as they drive away from that forsaken play, when Dean is sure that Sam’s fast asleep, does he lower the music to talk to Cass.

“You really think we’d make a good couple?”

“I do.”

“Why?” he asks, genuinely interested, “It’s not like we have any sexual attraction towards each other. We lie and we keep secrets all the time. If anything we’d be the worst couple to walk the earth. And that includes Sam and Demon Bitch.” As the play had so graciously reminded him.

“We fit all the romantic tropes.” His friend argues, “‘If you love someone let them go, if it’s meant to be they’ll come back,’ ‘best friends disguised as soul mates,’ ‘love slash hate,’ ‘I won’t leave you,’ ‘you think about them when they’re not there,’ ‘they watch over each other,’ ‘they need each other’ and what I’m sure we have ‘they love each other.’”

“Woah.” Dean struggles to find the angel’s expression in the darkness. One might say he even slows down so the street light catches his face for just a second longer. He’s earnest. That much Dean knows.

“So you’ve thought this. All this time. And you haven’t said a word.”

“I thought it was obvious.” He states, “Everyone knows I love you.”

“And I feel the same.” He assures, “I told you. You’re my brother.”

“Pull over.” Castiel says, “I can’t have his conversation with your back.”

Dean obliges, pulling over on the side of the road. They both get out and Sam is still blissfully sleeping. thank heaven.

“Dean.” The angel’s voice is unamused. “I always thought you knew. Think Dean, I was never obscure in my position in regards to you.”

And Dean does think.

He thinks without shuttered eyes and the image he sees scares him.

Cass abandoning everything to help him. Fighting a war and always coming whenever they called. Even with the Leviathan in him and the promise of certain death his main concern was making it up to Dean. His attempts at apologies… the board game, the sandwich. Breaking his oath of non-violence for Dean. The words of comfort and unending friendship that were always offered to him, even when he refused to return the favour. His insistence in ridding Dean of the mark. He gave up his whole friggin’ army for him… his chance at redeeming himself to his siblings. He’d said yes, comforted him when Sam died…

And Dean had been shit to him all the live long day.

Cass is in love with him.

He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do with that information. If I should change things… because… weirdly enough, if doesn’t. Except for the fact that he feels like one stupid son of a bitch.

“I’m going to ask you something Dean. And I want you to think about it carefully.” Cass looks at him for assurance, “Don’t answer right now. Take as long as you need… a few days… a few months.”

“Okay.”

Taking a deep breath, Cass prepares himself, “Would you love me as I love you… if I had chosen a female vessel?”

…

Dean thinks about it.

He thinks long and hard.

For days and night. He dreams it… all the different possibilities.

He knows his answer. Only the shame of facing Cass stops him.

He thought about how could they could be. Because he’d realised just how much he had done for Cass, forgiven him for. He thought about the cons, about how they could risk everything by being together, the intricacies of being with a man, the new lines of weaknesses for an enemy to exploit.

He’d planned on lying. Telling Cass that he won’t feel the same; Dean knows he’s poison.

But every thought, every plan he made falls away the moment that demon pins Cass down and ploughs into his chest with an angel blade. With a surge of adrenalin, he roars, stabbing the demon in the head, wrenching his body away from Cass. Vaguely in the distance, he hears Sam killing a pair of demons as he makes his way over.

Dean wants to shout.

To move.

_Something._

But the blood. It’s everywhere. Soaking into his hands dripping everywhere.

The wound is messy, jabbed into a glob of arteries in his neck. There’s no coming back from this. Not in that body…

So with all his might, all his mental fortitude, he forces his lips to say the one word he dreaded… the one he promised to never say again, not after Michael, not after drowning for months…

“Yes.”


	2. A Man Drowning Down Under

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Free Will struggle to come to terms with the new 'living arrangements.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While they're in Dean's head:
> 
> Dean's dialogue is in bold and italics.  
Castiel's dialogue is in italics.

Castiel’s essence rushes in to his body, spreading over every crevice of his being. He feel’s Castiel’s true form; truly the size of the Chrysler, trying to cram itself into Dean’s small receptacle. His lungs are no longer his own and everything is going haywire.

Then just as suddenly, it’s gone.

He’s in control.

Cass’ body is still in his arms, spewing blood everywhere.

Sam rushes over, touching Castiel’s head with a low choking sound.

“Oh God.” He whispers, “Dean I - ”

Oh right. That’s his friend’s corpse.

_‘Did it work?’ _he asks… technically himself.

_‘Yes Dean.’ _Somehow Castiel’s voice is the same ringing sound from before only now he can hear it without wanting to stab his ear drums. _‘My grace has been severely wounded, I may need some time to recover before I find a new vessel.’_

Dean ignores that, solely on principle. He knows it’s Cass, but the sickening, itching sensation doesn’t abate. He doesn’t like _not _being alone and even the slightest tug of Cass’ grace threatens to dunk him underwater again. But Cass isn’t dragging the reigns away from him. If anything, he sits in a metaphorical corner in Dean’s mind.

Catching himself slowly, he finally confronts Sam, who is still trying to stop Cass’ body from bleeding.

“Sam it’s alright.”

Sam stares at him, wide-eyed and disbelieving.

“I said yes.” He tries again.

Sam continues dabbing at the blood frantically.

“Um… Cass jumped my bones!”

Sam freezes pinning him with the bitchiest glare there ever was and ever will be, “Now _isn’t _the time Dean.”

Huffing Dean gives it one last go. If Sam can’t get it Dean will just have to throw himself off a cliff.

_I’d rather you not._

** _I almost forgot you were in there Jiminy Cricket._ **

“Sam. He’s possessing me.”

Tentatively, Sam probes, “So who am I talking to?”

“Still Dean.”

“Right.” Sam seems to have calmed down now, “Right.” He parrots, “How are you still in control though?”

Good question.

** _Cass?_ **

_I won’t take control of your body unless you tell me to. I’m aware how temporary this is Dean._

** _So you can just… let me… just like that? With Michael it was always a fight even for the seconds he let me out sometimes._ **

_Like I said, Dean, I have no desire to manipulate you. You don’t have to feel so anxious._

**_I trust you _**he mind farts, **_I do. Just feeling something that isn’t me… in me… it just beings be back to Michael days. _**

“Dean?” Sam waves his hands dramatically, “Earth to Dean.”

Woah, how long had he been jedi mind melding with Cass? “Uh, Cass says he just doesn’t feel like taking the wheel”

Sam’s expression softens. “I was really worried for a second there.”

“Me too.” Dean admits, “I saw him bleeding out… this was the only thing I could think of.”

Suddenly, Dean feels his knees buckle under him. An immense calm floods though his soul. He’d happily just lay down and drown in it, but as fast as it appeared it vanishes, leaving him shivering from the loss.

“Cass. Did you do this?”

_My apologies Dean._

**_The hell did you do _**Dean still can’t seem to find any sort of equilibrium. Honestly it felt a bit like his soul had an orgasm. Sourgasm. He grins.

_That’s a crude way to describe it_, he can hear the sulkiness of Cass’ voice. Somehow, the angel doesn’t talk like he usually does; gruff and baritone. It sounds more akin to the first time he had shrieked at Dean in that old gas station; just that his ears didn’t bleed this time.

** _You actually sound nice like this_ **

.

.

.

Back at the bunker Dean watches as Sam carefully lays Castiel’s body down. “I’ll call Rowena to see if she can fix it.”

_I can find another vessel, maybe a female one._

** _Is this about what you said before about needing a female body for me to love you?_ **

The angel’s silence is all he needs.

“Yea, get her to patch things up and Cass will be back to normal.”

From the back of his mind he feels something unlock. Laughter flows freely and he sees himself and Sammy… younger of course, bolting after a rabbit in the woods. He shakes his head, knowing that Cass probably just knocked some screws loose.

_You were happy here._ Observes the angel.

He saw that. **_Does that mean you see everything I see… even the stuff I think?_**

_There’s no way to stop it without pushing you aside._

**_Well, I’ve survived worse. _**He just has to not fantasize about any hot chicks while Cass is still snooping around in his head.

_I’m not ‘snooping.’ _Dean wonders how angelic ringing can sound so snippy.

**_Can I see yours too? _**Dean wonders instead.

_My thoughts… yes… I suppose if you are here with me._

Dean’s there right now. It’s impossible not to not be there. It’s his very own brain after all.

_Dean, _The angel drawls, _You could give yourself a corporeal form. Just will it to happen and so it shall be._

**_Well here I am. Willing it to happen. _**Dean does try to focus. It’s the least he can do for Cass. Repay the favour and make him as comfortable as possible.

All of a sudden he’s inside his own mind. Staring at Cass’ grace.

**_What did you do before? The sourgasm?_** he’s almost forgotten the blissful feeling.

Castiel’s grace swirls, _I – uh, wrapped my grace around your soul._

Dean gapes at him. **_You gave my soul a bear hug._**

_It recognised me! _Cass insists, _as the one who raised you from perdition._

**_Say it. _**Dean suddenly feels possessed – well the bad type of possessed. Michael had used those words against him like a weapon. The first words Castiel had said to him – that hadn’t made him want to stab his ears out. **_Tell me what you said in that barn._**

Castiel’s grace thrums in understanding. _Dean, I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition._

Somehow, those words sound even more reassuring than he’d expected. It’s must be Castiel’s angel voice.

Of course, the angel head it all, just as he heard every single though that flew through Dean’s head at that moment. Longing. Loss. Separation. Primal human emotions all jumbled together. Castiel could feel Dean’s trust in him.

**_Sam’s gonna think I’ve gone mental if I don’t get back. _**Dean says, trying to play off how much he had unintentionally revealed. **_Don’t – Don’t dig around in my memories right? Some shit I’d rather you not see. Capiche?_**

Castiel quells the desire to remind him that he’d remade him atom by atom for weeks. He knows Dean better than Dean knows himself. He knows Dean is planning to steal and wear (defile) his trench-coat to freak Sam out. Well, that might prove to be fun, he supposes.

“I capiche.”


	3. Midnight Memories

“What do you mean he’s trapped?” Dean feels his blood pressure sky-rocket.

Rowena rolls her eyes like she didn’t just drop a doozy right into their laps.

“It means.” She says, “That until you find the key. You and dear Castiel will be trapped in your head forever.”

“Explain it to me again.” Says Sam, his face wrought with worry lines.

“The demons performed a spell that was meant to trap a creature in their mind, forcing them to relive their memories for eternity.” She says, her mouth set in an impatient line. “It’s designed to trap the victim away from the exit and keep them locked in their own mind experiencing every memory, good and bad.”

“You said that there’s an exit.” Dean comments.

“Aye.” She says, “But this case is different. Castiel will have to find _your_ most horrible memory, because it’s your body that the spell hit.”

He scoffs, “Me and Cass are fine in here. We’ll just take turns behind the wheel.” He can’t have Cass rifiling around in his head. Seeing his memories. He’s got a fairly good idea of what the worst ones are… no one gets to see him that way.

Sam gives him a minute smile, “It’s a chore for you to even let me drive the Impala Dean. Me.”

“Pshh.”

“Dean.” Sam snaps, “If I have to watch you walk around in his trench coat for another day I will tell Rowena to cast that spell on _me._ It’s – It’s wrong Dean. It makes my skin crawl. It’s wrong. It’s revolting.”

Fingering the offending trench, Dean grins cheekily.

Initially he’d been creeped out by the trench coat too. But the hideous beige fabric grew on him. It was warm… comfortable, so unlike leather which was always squeaking and catching on things. Cass had been amused at Sam’s continued discomfort, actually egging him on. Maybe he’d talk to Cass about keeping it when they got him out.

“We’ll be fine.” He waves a hand to dismiss them, “Right Cass.”

_Dean. Staying here forever isn’t viable._

** _Well I can’t exactly have you rooting around in my shit now can I?_ **

_You don’t trust me. _How can a disembodied voice sound hurt and offended?

**_It’s not a matter of trust Cass. _**He explains. **_It’s about my privacy and me being humiliated._**

_Dean I want my own vessel._

Dean sighs, he realises how unfair he’s being. He glances at Sam, surely he of all people should understand not wanting someone in your head. But this isn’t just someone, he reminds himself. This is Cass.

** _If we do this… it’s a quick in and out. No dilly dallying. No looking around. We find it, we get out and we never talk about anything that we see inside there._ **

_I can abide by those conditions._

“We’ll do it.” he announces.

Rowena bursts into laughter. “You can’t just ‘decide to do it.’” she deepens her voice into a very unmanly expression. “This is a complex procedure. You need _to think carefully. Formulate a plan?_” she presses her hand to her forehead in exasperation.

“Well do you have any advice?” asks Sam, “A spell – something.”

“There is something.” She says slowly, “But it’s dangerous. I can send you in with Dean, to act as a tether to the real world.”

“Nuh-uh.” He waves a threatening finger at them, “No way is Sam coming too.” he sighs at Sam’s hurt face, “It’s bad enough that Cass has to be there. I hate this.”

“Anything else?”

“There is another spell. It will allow you to operate without the constraints of time. That way, you will have all the time you need.”

…

So that’s how Dean finds himself trapped in a hall of memories, all the doors have been thrown open by Rowena’s spell, allowing them to look but not get sucked into the vortex.

“I’m going to hold your hand.” Castiel announces. He sounds more like his usual gruff self and Dean feels sort of sad, but mostly indignant.

“You don’t need to hold my hand and walk me through this.” He says with bite.

“The thousand year old witch begs to differ.” He snips, “I don’t want you getting lost in your memories, it would be quite arduous to pry you away.”

Dean scoffs, arduous to pry him away from the worst memories anyone could possibly have? Sure.

But when they pass by the first door, he takes Cass’ hand himself, he sees him and Sam making paper boats and watching them float down the box drain while they caught the small guppies with twine and worms. Sam couldn’t have been more than five.

Castiel tugs him away gently then they both stumble. Sam stand before them and Dean immediately feels himself tense. He’d already resigned himself – made peace with Cass being here, but Sam. There’s a world of shit that he doesn’t know. And Dean would like to keep it that way.

“Get out.”

“I’m trapped in here with you guys now.” He retorts.

Dean wants to bitch slap him.

He grips Cass’ hand even tighter to resist the urge.

…

The first memory they try is Sam jumping into hell. Dean is almost sure that’s the one. Nothing happens, except him remembering that his little brother had spent almost two centuries trapped in a cage with the devil. He hates this. If he could, he’d find a way to kill that demon all over again, only slower… he’s savour it.

That thought leads them to their second memory, Dean when he first said yes.

He’s hardly able to look but he hears… hears enough. He could pinpoint the exact moment his screams had stopped… because they hadn’t stopped. He’d screamed as he was tortured and from the pain that lingered even as he ripped into the new soul. Slowly the bright light dimmed and the soul burned black and sooty. A new demon had been born; one of Dean’s own making.

Shuddering as he thinks of how many of the demons they face now had been tortured and made by him, he leans into Cass. What if he’d made the demon that sent them here in the first place?

“Sam.” Cass calls, “Let’s take a short break.”

Dean’s legs certainly think so, given how they wobble. He hadn’t thought about hell in so long and now here it is, being thrown into his face like bad soup.

“Okay.” Sam’s voice is small, sickened.

Dean feels shame blanket him.

It takes a while for Sam to notice, “Dean what’s – oh, you’re worried about my reaction to – that.”

Dean laughs, “You think I’m weak. You’re disgusted.”

“You’re not weak Dean. I could never blame you for anything you did or didn’t do down there, because I’m the reason you were even there!” Sam sighs, lowering his voice, “What they did to you – ”

Dean remembers it all too well. They’d roasted him slowly over a fire, until his skin turned black and started peeling off, exposing the soft muscle below to the blistering heat. They’d cut his tongue out to roast like a marshmallow. A human would be long dead, but there was no death for him. Not even when they ate him.

“I’m almost glad you said yes.” Sam’s voice is vehement, “I can’t bear the thought of you enduring that for _another_ ten years.”

Castiel nods along.

Dean feels himself dig in even further because he knows where they should go next.

The bunker… six years ago.


	4. The Things I Never Meant

_The Things I Never Meant_

The setting of the bunker is a stark difference from his last memory. It’s comfortable… familiar. But it doesn’t help soften the blow of this memory.

Dean knows what’s coming.

So his mouth doesn’t fall open like Cass’ or Sam’s when they find themselves, watching human Cass, in a friggin’ sweater, pull out a chair and tell Dean that he always enjoys their talks.

Dean’s heart is racing. He’s certain this must be the one. The most nastiest, angst ridden, guilt stricken memory of his that will finally free him from this nightmare.

Only.. it plays out perfectly, word for word, doing nothing but bring up old memories and shames, plunging him deeper into despair.

Cass looks at him sadly. “Dean I’m sorry.” Then after a beat. “I never that doing this hurt you.”

“Of course it did.” He mutters bitterly. “You were human… and I – I was kind of happy.”

Dean hates himself for saying it, just as much as he hated himself for thinking it, all those years ago.

“You- you and I…” he glances away. “We were always close, but as an angel you had certain things… there were certain things that you would have understood better as a human.”

“That is true.” Castiel says quietly.

“I wanted to the one to show you things.” He admits. “You know. The shit you had to learn from strangers. I wanted to be there for you.” Hang out, taste test all the different pies and beers he could find. Give him his own room in the bunker.

“I do wish you had taken the opportunity to show me the mechanics of urination.” Cass deadpans, “It’s more complex than one would think.”

Sam coughs.

“It’s not this one.” Sam says, bringing them back on track. “Do you have any idea of what it is?”

“I’m not exactly eager to go through my worst memories Sam.” He all but snaps.

Cass lays a hand on his arm. “We understand Dean.” He says sincerely. “I wouldn’t not like being in this position either. But the faster we move, the faster we no longer risk seeing something that you don’t want us to see.”

Huffing, Dean sticks out his chest. “I’m not ashamed of anything.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, I can attest to that.”

Squinting, Cass analyses them both. “I am not referring to sex.” He says. But ‘sex’ sounds so… wrong coming from his lips. The kind of wrong that makes Dean’s skin crawl. “I am referring to personal moments, that Dean would rather keep private.”

Oh. Dean might have a few of those personal, intimate moments that he’d rather Sam and Cass not see.

“Um…” his eyes dart left and right as he wracks his brain. There’s no shortage of worst memories for a Winchester. “How – how about Cassie?”

“Robinson?” Sam almost shrieks the name. “Dean that was years ago. And from what I saw, things weren’t very sad… if you know what I mean.”

“Not then.” He licks his lips, to distract himself from the memory. “When I told her… about the life… things weren’t great after that. We tried – to make it stick, but she didn’t believe me. And I didn’t want her to.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Castiel pipes up.

“I thought no idea was a bad idea.” Dean quips.

“I’ve never said such a foolish thing.” Cass bristles. “But your worst memory must be something so deep-seated that it was enough to change you as a person.”

“And you don’t think Cassie is deep-seated enough for that.” Dean snaps. He doesn’t understand why he’s suddenly raging. Maybe the insinuation that he doesn’t care about his relationships has something to do with it. That Dean is incapable of having a _deep-seated _friggin’ connection to someone.

“I don’t.”

“You weren’t there.”

“Tell me the truth Dean.” He says in the same even tone. “Don’t tell me that this isn’t just another distraction.”

Clenching his hands together, Dean tries to distract himself as this memory replays. He hates seeing the open look on Cass’ face when he knows that he’s about to destroy it, that he’s about to cast his best friend out into the cold like a dirty dish rag.

“Dean.” Cass says, dragging his attention away from the scene. “I forgive you.”

“What?”

“You knew, somewhere deep inside, that this memory isn’t … deep-seated enough.” Cass says simply, though the words sound like lava burning their way up his throat. “Maybe you brought us here, because you seek clemency. And you have it.”

Cass doesn’t think that he’s deep seated enough. The realisation burns through Dean’s veins like poison.

“You _are_ deep-seated enough.” He says with conviction.

The ‘of course, Dean.’ He receives is a platitude, nothing more. Even Sam knows it.

“How about… dad?” He says the name with more care than he would the devil’s. “Our childhood.”

If you could call it that, Dean thinks bitterly.

“Why can’t you just get out of my head.”

“You know why.”

Dean huffs and turns on his heel, but the only thing he finds is himself, telling Cass to leave for that must be the third time on repeat.

“I think we need to think about this strategically.” He says. “I think we should head to a happy memory.”

Sam’s face changes in an instant. “Remember what Rowena said.” He takes one step closer to Dean.

Dean remembers. Get enticed… get trapped… yadda yadda.

“Come on.” He says, “I know the perfect one.”

“Dean stop!”

But his feet are already moving, dashing past this blackened door and moving on to a nice yellow coloured one. The sound of footsteps tells him that Sam and Cass are close behind. Dean flings the door open and steps inside, exhaling as he’s no longer breathing in Cass’ suffering.

It’s Dean’s happy place.

Situated on the dock is a fold-out chair with a beer in each handle and a fishing rod and a can of bait off to the side.

This…

_This_ is paradise.


	5. Spill Your Guts, Or Those of a Worm

Dean closes his eyes as the summer heats seeps into his skin. The water in the lake reflects the light in such a way that it looks like thousands of diamonds were scattered across the surface.

Of course, if they were actually diamonds, Dean would be raking in a fortune. He wouldn’t need to hunt or scam or anything else to get by.

He shuts his eyes as the illusion of himself lounges on Baby’s hood. The first time he came here, he remembers not being able to venture anywhere near the water. He thought that hunters should slack off. No. He’d _been_ taught that hunters shouldn’t slack off.

Shouldn’t have a life. Should be consumed by their work. He followed his dad all his life, but that never stopped him from wanting even when he couldn’t do.

He remembers the mere feeling of solitude and silence when he first came here, had made him feel more relaxed than he had in years. There was nothing to rush him. Nothing to chase after. No cell signal. No way to track him. He could have ditched everything and everyone and build a little hut right here. He remembers thinking that he could catch fish and get fresh water from a stream further back.

Some people plan their lives when they run away from home. This is what his looked like.

This had been somewhere in his early twenties. As he grew older, his desires had changed. The bunker had been perfect – still is perfect. It has all the things he needs, all the people. Yet, sometimes he still finds himself thinking about this lake. Of building a two story house and living here. Fishing on weekends and having bar-b-ques and shopping at the Farmer’s Market for Sam’s ‘healthy stuff.’

It’s Dean’s mind. So he makes himself a nice foldable chair, summons a pack of beer and a fishing rod and casts his line.

He tells people that he likes fishing because he still gets to kill something, but the truth is, he just likes the stillness. The reward that comes after hard work.

“Fishing.” A voice comes from beside him.

“Cass.” He says with a sigh. “You’ve come to drag me out into that hell.”

He cackles loudly before Cass can get a word in. “Hell. Now there’s an idea. Maybe we’ll revisit the night when you said you’d airdrop me back there.”

Cass’ face changes. “Dean you know that wasn’t –”

“I’m sorry.” Dean murmurs, looking down at his hands which are wrapped around fishing pole. “I know that you were just doing what you needed to.”

“I know you don’t actually mean that.” Cass assures. “Why don’t you summon me a chair and we can talk?”

“Where’s Sam?” He asks, glancing around.

“He’s waiting outside.” Cass says gently. “He thinks that this is somehow his fault for pushing you.”

“It – kind of is.” He admits.

Cass smiles at the hello kitty patterned chair that Dean brings for him. “I know why this is bothering you.” Cass says gently. “What I don’t understand is why you ran.”

“You don’t understand.” Dean says, hoping that he can somehow change that. “You – you have stuff in your head. Stuff that you don’t want your little brother and best friend seeing.”

“You could look at any memory you choose Dean.” Cass says, his voice sincere. “Everything I have done, you know – mostly. Everything I feel …”

“About that Cass.” Dean says suddenly, wondering why he hadn’t forced himself to do something sooner. It’s not like he has any other best friend whose feelings he should be protecting. “You never have to change for anyone. Not even someone you love.”

“So when this is over, you don’t want me to seek out a female body.” Cass says, perplexed.

“No.” Dean says firmly. “You’ve had that one for years. We’ve all grown accustomed to it. And, no matter what vessel you take, you’d still be good ole Cass.”

“Good ole Cass.” He parrots.

Dean swallows as he feels the next question brewing. “Is that all that I will ever be?”

“I don’t know.” He says truthfully. “Right now the only thing on my mind is this place and getting out as fast as we can.”

Cass seems disappointed, not nods nonetheless.

“I just don’t want to lead you on.” He says, needing to make Cass understand.

“I know.” Cass says softly. “Let’s – let’s get back on topic. You were telling me why this process irks you.”

“It doesn’t irk me.” Dean says, feeling his skin crawl just thinking about it. “It’s _humiliating_ Cass. To have you both there with me while we watch my life fall apart on repeat.”

“We’re only here to support you.” Cass reminds. “Although, you are entitled to your feelings. What do you think we could see, that would change the way we look at you.”

Dean scoffs. “Oh there’s plenty.”

“Dean.” Cass warns.

He sighs. “I – I just couldn’t knowingly lead you guys into one of those memories.”

“Why don’t you think about what your worst memory could be? Really think Dean. Narrow it down to four or five and we’ll visit those. There’s a less likely chance of us seeing something that would embarrass you.”

“That’s a nice idea Cass.” Dean whispers. “But you still have to see those memories, don’t you? They’re horrible Cass. Unspeakable.”

“I know your life was never easy Dean.” Cass says. “But I know you. You’ve made mistakes. But everything you’ve done was always for the greater good. You aren’t selfish Dean. You aren’t any of the things you think you are. Do you know what the only thing I’ve ever hated about you is?”

Dean isn’t sure that he wants to know. But Cass is being so forthcoming, he doesn’t want to shun that gesture.

“I hate the way you can’t see the good in yourself.”

He looks away. There isn’t good to see. There’s never been any in him. Sure, he likes to pretend and put on a brave face. But he’s scared. Terrified every time he walks out the door. He hunts monsters and he wins. But that’s only because he’s bigger, badder monster than any of them could be.


End file.
